Philadelphia Weekly

A young painter recently told me he had begun to question the art he was making and had turned instead to painting portraits, something he saw as more meaningful. For this artist and for all those interested in the art of portraiture, the small and potent exhibit "Pontormo, Bronzino, and the Medici: The Transformation of the Renaissance Portrait in Florence" at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA) is a must.

The paintings and drawings in this exhibit are beautiful and sumptuous. They're examples of two Renaissance artists working at the height of their powers. But the story behind the works--how the artists translated what they actually saw into what they thought about their subjects--is a lesson in portrait-making that's still timely.

These unofficial portraits of the 16th-century Medici rulers--ruthless, powerful men you probably wouldn't want to have a beer with--show the Medicis as sensitive artists, poets and lovers.

This softening was presumably dictated by the Medicis themselves but in large part also reflects the artists' points of view. Pontormo and Bronzino lived in times of constant war and rampant plague, and these portraits, especially Pontormo's, reflect a kind of lonely, sad questioning that shows the artists imposing their worldview on the sitter. It's done with grace and subtlety, but it's there.

Pontormo's figures are man-mountains. In the portrait Alessandro de' Medici, the then-duke of Florence looms like an enormous black boat. He's bigger than the room--surely his body is a symbol of the immovable object that was Medici power.

Likewise, his hands are symbols. Delicate, expressive, seen drawing a picture, the hands are statements unto themselves. As with all of Pontormo's portraits, the hands have a life of their own and compete with the face to hold your attention.

The 47 pieces in this show--paintings, drawings, coins, medals and books--were gathered from sources around the world. But the show's two signature works, Bronzino's portrait of Cosimo I de' Medici as Orpheus and Pontormo's Alessandro de' Medici, are from the PMA's own collection, and they shine. Placed across from each other in the small second-floor gallery, the Medici cousins have a 21st-century stare-down that communicates much about the dangerous, complex era they lived in.

Portraiture never goes out of fashion because people never tire of looking at images of other people. But painted portraits got relegated to the attic as photographs and snapshots replaced them in people's lives. Now a new crop of young artists seems to be picking up the painted portrait again.

They're using photographs as the basis of their work, which is fitting and right for the times. The best of these new portraitists will capture their own angst, fears and hopes for the future to help tell the story of our tumultuous times.

The PMA is holding two companion exhibits for this show: an exhibit of Italian master drawings from the collection and a video installation, The Greeting by Bill Viola, which is based on Pontormo's painting The Visitation. Leave extra time for both.

"Pontormo, Bronzino, and the Medici: The Transformation of the Renaissance Portrait in Florence"
Through Feb. 13. Philadelphia Museum of Art, 26th St. and the Pkwy. 215.763.8100. www.philamuseum.org

sketches

Color Me Rad

Artists have long been interested in optical effects and the magic of light and color. In the 20th century Dan Flavin, James Turrell and others used colored lights to create art that was a kind of optical magic. Danish-born artist Olafur Eliasson, whose "Your Colour Memory" is at Arcadia University, has taken the magic a step further, creating a trippy immersion chamber that's both art and a space for spiritual reflection and social interaction. The womblike oval room has soft translucent walls lit from within by lighting elements programmed to subtly change color. They run the gamut from quiet hues of yellow and blue to fuchsias and greens of such excruciating intensity they drown all thought. (A black- curtained closet has been installed inside as a cool downtime room for those who need or want it.) In the company of others, the piece is a giddy ride that makes you aware of the value of shared experience. Your color memory might not be like my color memory, but we'll both share the memory of this chamber and seeing each other in it. Unlike James Turrell, whose color projections have a lonely "it's me and the void" affect, Eliasson courts a crowd. His works, like this one, are humanistic and public, and as such, they're generous gifts in stingy times. Take your crew and go. (R.F.)

"Olafur Eliasson: Your Colour Memory," through Jan. 9. Arcadia University Art Gallery, 450 S. Easton Rd., Glenside. 215.572.2131. www.arcadia.edu/gallery